


Miasma

by vodkabots (theultimatenerd713)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theultimatenerd713/pseuds/vodkabots
Summary: Do you know what lurks in the shadows?Do you know what lurks in the daylight?





	Miasma

**Author's Note:**

> Do not fear.

_Schlick, schlick, schlick_.

Sapphire works its way up his forearms, the sallow paper of his skin disappearing for a moment underneath the essence of his machine. Head snapped loosely to the side, he peers down the bridge of his nose at the place where his hands shall soon meet. A wisp of smoke appears between the intermittent sparking of the wires near his grip, and he leers at it, chasing after it with one of the tubes he's holding. Smothering it, he quickly yanks the other tube towards it, hooking them together with a final click.

His creation jerks a little, heels tapping against the metal upon which it lies. He takes a soaked hand and pries open an eyelid, a mark of curiosity staining the pallor. Silver light gleams beneath it. His grin widens, doesn’t reach his eyes. It never has. He lets go of the silicone and steps back.

“Open up.” He holds out his arms imperiously. They materialize and step forward, heads obediently bowed, gaze upon their task.

“Proceed.” Their chests swing open, steam billowing among the wraiths. How could they call his beings such sad imitations of life when their faces contort in such sweet, humane smiles, gritting their teeth behind their sewn lips as limbs unfold and stretch from aching cavities? Pity they’ll never witness this, the most delicate of rituals.

Long, spidery arms reach for his stiff collar, his belt, his shoes. Efficiently he steps out of them and lets his beings work, slowly and gently scrubbing across his entire body as they rid him of the blood of one of their own. Or perhaps they don’t claim it yet. It hasn’t even spoken to them, let alone built memories in its processors. This he contemplates as the hands close on his shoulder blades, massaging the soap into his skin. He groans indulgently as a soft hand curls around his cock, barely a few tugs before the tension in his body leaves him, sagging in their hold.

He’s so glad that they have claimed him, at least. They would not care so sweetly for another.

He shivers as the warm, damp towels sweep across his arms, collecting the thirium coating his skin and leaving only blank canvas behind. The lines reappear again, and he views them with a sense of detachment. They’re only memories, after all, leftovers of when he couldn’t coat his arms in anybody’s blood but his own. Of course, that’s changed.

“Elijah?” Through the fog she appears a mere silhouette, framed by the light of the doorway. He’s nearly clean now, the soaked towels refolding with the extended limbs back into their chassis. The blood will be extracted for recirculation, not a drop wasted. Bare as his first day on earth, he steps forth from the mist, and soft lips meet his own, just cool enough to be inhuman. He closes his eyes, savoring the razor-sharp teeth his tongue runs over as her mouth opens into the kiss. The others look on, indifferent to their interaction.

As Elijah pulls away, she takes his hand in one of her own, tracing over the lines with her thumb. Glowing blue eyes capture his own, half-lidded gaze. “Did you finish it, my love?” Her other hand comes up to cup his cheek, and he leans into the touch.

“Yes, dear.” He kisses her palm, and she grins, predatory. The needles of her smile are no less frightening than when he first put them in, and he shivers at the memory, cock twitching as he remembers when she first sunk them into him, how he cried out and came almost immediately as blinding pain emanated from the spot.

He knows she can sense his arousal, can see the miniscule dilations of his pupils, and she licks her lips. “Come, Elijah. You must eat, and I must feed.” She turns, heels clicking on the tile, and he lets her drag him down, down, down.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe fear
> 
> a little


End file.
